The Girl on Fire, an Army of One
by DianaHewie
Summary: Sucker Punch inspired take on The Hunger Games - After "killing" her sister, Katniss is taken to Lennox House, a place for the insane, where she must try to survive long enough to escape, but the only way to survive is to be a part of the "Games."


I go over everything again in my mind. I want to make sure it wasn't a dream, that it all actually happened because, when I think about it, I don't feel certain that it was me. When I look back on that moment, it isn't me that's standing there. It's someone else, only someone that looks like me. The arrow that was in my hand couldn't have been the same one that killed her. My aim is perfect, and I don't miss.

I would never kill my little sister.

_I'm standing there in the field, waiting and watching. The deer stands between the trees, and I can't tell if she knows I'm there or not. She seems to not be paying too much attention and hardly ever looks in my direction._

_ Trying to move to the side to get a better shot at her, my foot crunches down on a few crisp dead leaves, and the deer jerks her head up. I raise my arrow right then, readying to kill the second she acts like she is going to run. Because I can't afford to lose her. I need her meat._

_ From the corner of my eye, I notice someone else climb their way through the bushes. The sound makes the deer spook, and I see the muscles in her side quiver as she moves to leap forward and break into a run. My arrow is aimed at the deer, but my eyes shift to the side, and I see my sister. Primrose. _

_ She followed me after I told her to stay home. I told her just to sit with Buttercup, her cat, for a while, and I would come back soon. She didn't listen to me. _

_ For the last couple of weeks, she has had it in her head that she can help me, that she can help me hunt. Every time I leave, I tell her to stay home. I promise that when she's just a little older, I'll teach her. But today isn't that time, but it seems like she thought it was._

_ My focus pauses when I see her, but when the deer throws herself forward, I release the arrow. The moment I let it go, I hear a snap behind me, and I turn around. It sounded like the breaking of a twig under someone's weight, but I don't know for sure. I see no one and turn away again._

_ I expect to see the deer lying on the ground with my arrow straight through her heart. Instead, there is no deer. It's gone. My eyes move over to where Prim had shown herself, and at first, I don't think she's there anymore either. Until I see the shape of a little blonde girl in white lying on the ground._

_ "Prim!"  
I drop my bow and run. _

_ Her eyes are still open when I kneel down next to her and lift her up in my arms. She's barely even awake, I think, when I move my arm under her back to prop her up. She winces but doesn't say a word, and I feel the inside of my arm hit something pointed. When I look, I see an arrow protruding from her side.  
But it doesn't look like my arrow. Mine had looked different. This one is fancier with gold trim and a professionally made look, but my head is spinning, and I don't know for sure. My first thought is to pull it out, but I don't. _

_ I lower her back into the grass again and see the blood that's smeared all along the inside of my arm. My heart stops, and my stomach twists, and I can't tear my eyes away from the sight of Prim's blood on me._

_ The arrow's deep, and the blood's quick to run, soaking into her white shirt and turning it to the color of murder, and it sticks to her skin, and my mind is working in slow motion._

_ Prim tries to mouth something to me, but she stops after what I can only assume is halfway through her sentence. Her lips stop, and her eyes just look at me. She doesn't blink anymore. _

_ I scream her name, but my voice doesn't sound like me. I almost don't even realize the tears that stream out of my eyes as I pick her up again, holding her close to me, feeling the lack of life in her body._

_ I smell the scent of blood, and at first, I assume it's just from the last of Prim's final heart beats, but then, I recognize the smell of rose too._

_ There's another twig snap behind me, and I can hear the sound of someone walking through the dying grass. Still holding Primrose, I turn around to see who's there all of the sudden. At first, my brain doesn't register because, at that moment, it can't register anything more than the fact that my little sister is dead in my arms, and I don't know how my arrow hit her instead of a deer._

_ President Snow steps out from behind one of the trees, and all I see is the smile on his face and the sick glimmer in his eyes. It looks like there is a drip of blood in the corner of his mouth, and for a moment, all I can think is that it's Prim's blood instead of his own._

The more I think about it, the more I know that I didn't kill my sister. My arrow couldn't have been that far off. I made sure where it was aimed before I let it go and definitely before I looked away.

But I have no way to prove it.

My hands are held behind me as I'm led to the front doors of this strange building. The stone sign outside read "Lennox House," and I think about tearing myself away and running, but where will I go? I won't get away, not for long.

Snow managed to record and televise the entire incident out in the woods. Everyone in the districts saw it. If I hadn't been me, and I had been watching it as someone else, I would have thought I killed Prim too. The clips were arranged perfectly.

But I know, in my own mind, that isn't how it went.

He managed to have me labeled as dangerous and a threat and convinced the people that I was better off locked away. And that was what they did, decided to send me off to somewhere else where I couldn't "hurt" anyone.

Seneca Crane has been assigned as my escort. Every so often, he glances over at me, and I see it clear on his face that he's uncomfortable in my presence. But I don't do anything to make him feel that way on purpose. Maybe he has the images of me murdering my little sister running on a repeat track in his mind.

I glance down at my wrist. There is already a plastic bracelet around it that's labeled "mentally unstable." I was required to put it on even before we left.

When the doors open, two of the nurses step out in their white uniforms, and each take one of my arms to lead my inside. Seneca stays outside and watches me go, and another nurse passes me with a clipboard a few pieces of paper tucked under her arm, going out to talk with him. I wonder if Snow has any specific orders for me.

Once the doors close behind me, I feel the first flicker of panic rise up into my chest.  
I am alone. My sister is gone. Everyone thinks that I killed her.

They lead me to a large room with tables and chairs scattered around. Other girls are around, and a few look over at me, but most of them don't even notice or care. There's one girl that seems to show a little more interest than the others, and my eyes meet hers. She offers a short-lived smile before she looks away from me, and her hair covers part of her face, and I can't even see her dark green eyes anymore.

"If you're on your best behavior," one of the nurses says, "you'll get to spend a little time socializing with the others here each day."

Her voice is high-pitched and overly happy, and it makes me cringe with each word that comes out of her mouth. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and smiles at me, like she's trying to get my attention as if I am some mutt.

"But that's only if you're good," she says.

I half-expect her to order me to sit with the promise of a treat if I do so.

Across the room, someone screams—an angry scream—and a chair is thrown to the floor. I look over to see another of the girls act as if she was about to throw the table too, the only thing separating her from the girl across from her.

A couple of the other nurses that stand off to the sides of the room, acting as guards, rush in and grab onto her. She screams again and flails her arms, trying to break herself free from them.

The nurse that was so happy two seconds ago, the one that told me to be on my _best _behavior, whistles and calls out to the girl. Her voice is even sharper, but this time, there's anger too.

"Johanna Mason, let's not have a repeat of last week," she says.

I watch the almost-fight break out. Before anything happens, they have the girl—Johanna, supposedly—under control, and they drag her away again. As they move, she seems to try digging her heels into the floor, but the floor is made of tiles and concrete, and she only slides along. For a moment, her attention falls on me in the form of a glare, but she looks away again and struggles to free herself from the grasp of the nurses. It seems like this is routine, and their hold on her is too tight for her to do anything about it.

I don't say anything as she's taken away, and immediately after, I'm handed a change of clothes that I'm expected to wear. There is a specific uniform worn by patients—though, I'd rather say inmates—and I'm assigned mine.

Looking back behind me, the nurse is looking through a thin packet of papers. Her lips are pursed together as she reads.

"Katniss Everdean," she says, "is considered mentally unstable on account of murdering a family member unprovoked."

She closes the packet of papers and looks at me, a forced smile spreading across her lips. Dropping the papers down to her side, she walks over, resting her other hand on my back to guide me to wherever it is that she's deciding to take me.

"Well, we'll just put that in your file and continue here as if no such thing ever happened," she says. I can hear the unease in her voice, but I don't say anything. I only nod my head.

"Come now, Katniss," she says. "We have a room all set up for you. It's just this way."

Before she leads me away, I look back over to the girl with the green eyes. Not only is she looking at me again, but so are two other girls that are sitting with her. My eyes meet theirs, and I look to each one of them individually.

Something about them almost seems different, and I feel like they're trying to say something to me with their eyes alone. I know the odds here already aren't in my favor, but seeing them, even if I don't know them, gives me hope.


End file.
